


I've Got Whiskey Fever

by Arleneisme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Hates Witches, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hook-Up, Hurt Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, I'm Bad At Tagging, One Night Stands, One Shot, Original Character(s), POV Third Person, Plot Twists, Poor Dean, Porn With Plot, Public Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Worried Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 17:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10392243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arleneisme/pseuds/Arleneisme
Summary: It was no secret that Dean Winchester hated witches and after an epic fail of a hunt he goes to a bar to nurse his hurt ego. He was determined to spend the night alone sulking until she walked in and gave him Whisky Fever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The song that inspired me to write this is called "Whiskey Fever" by Dorothy, I highly recommend you check it out before reading, during reading or even after reading this fic!

There were a few perks to getting your drinks from a run down out of the way bar, the prices were lower, there weren't many people around to nose into your business, and if there was any sign of a warm body in the room, they had the tendency to leave each other the hell alone.

Leaned up against the bar Dean sat nursing a whiskey, such a strong drink wasn't really his style, usually he would settle for a beer but tonight was different. Savoring the warmth it produced as it washed down his throat Dean attempted to drink away the sensation of overwhelming failure.

Between sips of the harsh liquid he murmured angrily to himself, “Damn witch, I can’t believe she got the best of me…” It was no secret that Dean Winchester hated witches and today’s coven was no exception. Walking into that abandoned house both he and his brother Sam received a harsh revelation that they had no idea what they were up against.

In a moment of forgetfulness, Dean reached for his drink causing an intense pain to shoot from the top of his shoulder down to the tips of his fingers. Grunting in discomfort, he rubs at the aching muscles with his other hand while slowly rotating the joint around in its socket. Wincing, he reflected on how Sam had just popped it back into place only a few hours prior.

Sam had retreated to the far side of the dark musky bar distancing himself from Dean and his wounded ego. Sam couldn’t blame him, though; getting your shoulder jerked out of its socket by a 900-year-old hag would put even the most chipper man in a bad mood. Whether they were young or old, witches were powerfully strong bitches, and they knew exactly how to knock a guy around.

While chatting up a slender brunette with dark expressive eyes, Sam continued to glance sympathetically in Dean’s direction. His brother’s defeated frame was hunched over the bar, the collar of his leather coat hiked up higher than usual. Although the bar was relatively desolate, Sam silently hoped that Dean could find solace tonight whether it is alone or with someone.

At that moment the stale silence of the bar was interrupted by a song soulfully sung by a woman, “… _Whoa, mama don't you leave me alone, no tellin' what I'll do on my own. Whoa, mama, there's a pit in my soul, so deep I gotta fill it up now, fill it up now, fill it up now…"_ Curious as to where the music was coming from Dean glances over his shoulder, his eyes falling on the figure of a stunningly beautiful woman.

Gripping the edges of the almost forgotten jukebox she swayed with the music, getting lost in the tempo briefly before pushing away waltzing to the bar. Continuing to keep the beat her boots scuffed along the floor before stopping at the bar and occupying the stool a few feet away from Dean.

Pulling out the same brand of whiskey that Dean was drinking the bartender retrieved a clean glass and skillfully poured the smooth amber liquid. “The usual?” he gruffly asks already sliding the full glass in her direction, laughing lightly she quizzes him, “Why do you even ask me if you already know what I want?”

Shrugging indifferently the bartender returns the bottle to its shelf, “I donnow, outta’ habit I guess?” Folding her arms on the bar's top, she teasingly tilts her head reaching out for her drink the tips of her fingers tracing along the brim of the glass, “Well, whatever blows your skirt up Hank! You run the place not me.”

To this Hank snorts causing the woman to scowl at him as she presses the glass to her lips taking a sip. “The hell I am! With ya playin’ that same damn song every god damn night we should yank my name off tha’ sign!” Tossing her hands akimbo she retorts, “HEY! There is nothing wrong with Dorothy! If anything you should be _thanking_ me for saving this bar from ‘The Final Countdown’ by Europe!”

As Hank was in the process of arguing further a woman’s voice yells from the back, “Hank! Not this fight again! Let it go! She always wins anyway!” Stubbornly Hank frowns, whipping the rag he was using over his shoulder grumbling, “I-I gotta’ do stuff in the back…” As he walks by, Dean can pick up the bartender muttering, “…there ain’t no problem with Europe, it’s a classic! That’s what it is…a _classic_!”

After flashing the defeated Hank a smirk, the woman settles around her liquor eyes cast down swirling the whiskey around in her glass between sips. The jukebox continuing to play, “… _Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey fever, you’re my evil, you’re my evil. Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey fever you're my evil, you're my evil love…"_

While she is lost in the music and her drink Dean can’t help but take advantage and look her over, starting at her feet and working his way up. The boots that danced across the floor were worn and muddy from constant use, the faded material of her jeans fit snuggly along the curve of her hips. The ensemble complimented by her relaxed black tank that was tucked casually behind the front of her belt buckle.

Immediately upon reaching her face Dean is startled to see that she had been intently staring at him while he was ogling her. Due to being caught off guard Dean is unable to pull his usual smooth talking routine, mouth hanging agape trying to find words to say to the impossibly beautiful woman next to him.

Bridging the gap between them she scoots her glass along the bar’s surface, taking the barstool next to him. Turning to face him and setting her arm on the counter she raises her glass to him, “I see you got my favorite there. You are a man of good taste.”

Downing the rest she sets the empty glass down before leaning closer to him, her eyes flicking mischievously, "It isn't for the faint of heart, though, had a rough day I guess?" Welcoming her presence, Dean begins to relax reestablishing his suave demeanor, “You could say that…” washing the rest of his own drink down he brushes his fingers along the back of her hand the static of the sexual tension prickling between their touch.

Picking up on his queues she leans forward further, running her hand up his arm. The oaky smell of the whiskey mixing with her perfume in a tantalizing way, finally getting close enough she whispers in his ear, “…is there anything I can do to make your day better?”

Enclosing her hand in his he tugs gently prompting her to stand, granting her a mischievous grin he leads her to the back door, “I have a few ideas…” Passing by Sam’s table Dean shoots his brother a familiar look, and instantly Sam knows what his brother is up to.

The soulful song continuous to play on a loop, turned up loud enough that the music floods outside along with them as they push their way into the back ally, “ _…Whoa, mama can't you see that I’m grown? Bad habits been bustin’ my bones. Hell, mama's gonna' swallow me whole, Lord knows I gotta' fill it up now. Fill it up now, fill it up now…"_

Stepping out into the mild night Dean leads her behind a stack of discarded beer crates, providing them some privacy away from the view of the street. Pressing her back flush against the crumbling brick of the bar’s exterior he catches her mouth in a searing kiss. Lifting her hand that he still has firmly clasped in his above her head continuing to provide steady authority.

Exploring her mouth further Dean savors the rich whiskey taste on her lips, the flavor causing their kisses to become more fervent. Hurtling towards heated open mouth kisses, Dean’s hand releases hers using the newfound freedom to rub them down across her shoulders and along the tops of her breasts.

Cupping each breast in the palms of his hands Dean bends forward kissing along the top. Grasping the back of his head, she anchors him arching her back into his touch biting back moans panting instead. Sloppily kissing up her neck he comes to her lips once again, taking the opportunity she quickly moves her hands down and unfastens his belt shoving her hand under his boxers and begins palming his erection.

A loud moan breaks past his lips due to being unprepared by her brash action; in an attempt to not be discovered she silences his groans by kissing him deeper. Swiping her thumb over the swollen tip Dean shudders pulling away from her kiss huffing playfully, “Whoa there, aren’t ya gonna’ buy me dinner first?”

Stroking his cock further she bites her bottom lip seductively, “Hun, I am anything but your traditional girl if you can’t tell.” Proving her point she squeezes gently causing Dean to tilt his head back panting as quietly as he can, meeting her gaze again he rasps, “I see what you mean…”

Removing her hand she pushes him away slightly providing enough space to undo her belt, unzipping her pants and wiggling them down. Taking the hint Dean does the same, his jeans slipping loosely around his knees. But before he can continue she abruptly turns pressing her breasts against the wall, rubbing her ass up against his ridged cock.

The stimulation of her flesh rubbing along his shaft drives Dean mad with desire, alcohol clouding his judgment and his will collapsing under the weight of lust. Grabbing her hips adamantly he grinds against her further, the sound of her pants raggedly deadened as they hit the rough brick of the wall.

Arching forward Dean sucks bruises on her shoulder and up the back of her neck, pressing the tip of his cock against her opening. Angling her hips higher he proceeds to push inside of her wet heat, stirring his heart to pound loudly in his ears. Their passion accompanied by the music inside, setting the pace as Dean thrusts in and out.

  _“…Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey fever, you’re my evil, you’re my evil. Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey fever, you’re my evil; you’re my evil love. Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re my evil love. Whoa, whoa, whoa you’re my evil love…”_

Picking up speed he plunges deep inside her, desperately massaging at her hips with his hands, feeling her rock with his movements. Attempting to keep his euphoria filled moaning at bay Dean pants harder against the nape of her neck, the breathy sighs that subtly slip from her lips spur him on.

Dean relishes the satisfaction he feels at the sharp intake of her breath as he plunges especially deep within her. The throbbing of her pussy that he is so deliciously buried to the hilt in radiates heat causing his breath to come faster. Releasing one of his hands from her hip, he skims it up underneath her top, fingers playing along with the bottom of her bra, shoving the fabric up and fondling her breast.

The rise and fall of her panting breath mingled with the force of his movement’s causes the swell of her breast to bounce in his hand. The pain in his shoulder a distant memory as he draws her into his embrace racking her body with his thrusts. Moving his hand once more Dean dips it down toying with her clit, his fingers rubbing softly producing shudders that radiate from her core.

Feeling his orgasm coming on quickly Dean works to bring her release; pressing his fingers against her clit harder she pants faster pushing back against him roughly. The realization of her pleasure propelling him over the edge being tossed a strong almost painful orgasm, forcing himself to be quiet he hisses through his teeth, biting hard at his bottom lip.

Panting thickly his body begins to go slack, dizziness overcoming him forcing him to pull out. Stumbling back the blues of the music singing along with the hammering of his heart, _“…whiskey, whiskey, whiskey fever, you’re my evil, you’re my evil. Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey fever, you’re my evil; you’re my evil love. Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re my evil love…”_

Falling to the ground limply Dean’s vision cuts in and out, the world beginning to fade. The last thing he sees is the woman standing over him a wicked smirk on her lips as she does up her jeans. The jukebox blasting the last line of the song almost at slurred and slow pace as he succumbs to the darkness, _“…Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re my evil love…”_

* * *

Coming to about an hour later Dean is laying flat on the dingy ground staring at the dark sky, the world around him cast in a red neon glow. If his pants weren’t around his ankles, he would have thought that the previous events had been some kind of fever dream. Yanking his pants up quickly he rushes back inside looking for the woman who he had just been with.

Bursting through the back door he dashes into an empty bar, Hank the only body left occupying the space as he silently wipes down the counter top. Dean surmised that Sam had wooed the brunette woman from earlier and had taken her back to their motel room based on the lack of his presence.

Something about the bar felt off, silence falling hard on Dean’s ears forcing him to notice that the music had stopped playing. The thundering of his heart became the only thing he could hear; in an attempt to find the woman he stumbles to the bar coughing to clear his dry throat before asking, “Where is your regular that was here earlier? Did she come back in here from the back ally?”

Hank shoots him an utterly puzzled look, “What regular? What woman are you talkin’ bout’ boy? The only person I saw stumblin’ from the back ally is you.” Feeling himself instantly pale a cold sweat breaks out on his forehead, grasping at straws Dean stammers, “You know! She comes in practically every day, plays the same song on the jukebox and always orders whiskey!"

Edging his way towards the phone on the back wall Hank studies Dean’s frantic demeanor with concerned eyes, “Son, is there someone I can call for ya? You seem delirious, and it'd be best if you went home an' got some rest.” At that moment Dean begins to feel the bile rise in his throat, there was no way he had imagined everything that had just happened.

Slamming his hands down on the counter with the last bit of strength he had he yelled, “No! She was here! You talked to her about the song she started on the jukebox!” Motioning behind him Dean turns, feeling the burn of vomit rising higher at the scene before him. The spot where the jukebox stood earlier was completely empty, no sign of it anywhere.

Steadying himself on the counter Dean tries to make sense of everything that is going on muttering, “No…no…it was _right there_ …” Hank comes round the counter leading Dean to sit down before he topples over, “I have owned this bar for _30 years_ , and I have _never_ had a jukebox…Now…lemme’ call someone for ya’ ok, son?”

* * *

On the other side of town in a dilapidated house, the woman that had seduced Dean earlier that evening strolled through the doorway of a dark and damp basement. Upon entry, she is greeted by a few other women, the leader of the group approaches her brushing a stray hair out of her face.

Noticing the darkening bruises from Dean’s kisses along her neck and shoulder the corners of the leader’s mouth curl into an evil smile, “I assume your mission was successful my sister?” Nodding slowly she affirms, “That is right my master, he released himself inside of me.”

Clapping her hands enthusiastically the leader strides towards the dusty shelves, pushing aside the curtain of hanging spices and animal bones. Rustling through the various bottles containing body parts, dark fluids and other unknown items she carefully picks out what is needed. Filling her arms with the necessary items she places them on the table before declaring, “Now my dear sisters, let us seek our revenge against Dean Winchester!”

**Author's Note:**

> A twist?! On a one-shot?! Can I do that?! I think I just did... ;)


End file.
